Hours to Morning
by ncfan
Summary: Rangiku needs oblivion in a glass, and Nanao is happy to deliver. They both know it's still hours to morning. Gin x Rangiku, Ukitake x Nanao.


**Characters**: Rangiku, Nanao**  
Summary**: Rangiku needs oblivion in a glass, and Nanao is happy to deliver. They both know it's still hours to morning. Gin x Rangiku, Ukitake x Nanao.**  
Pairings**: Gin x Rangiku, Ukitake x Nanao**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Spoilers for Soul Society arc**  
Timeline**: post-Soul Society arc, pre-Arrancar arc**  
Author's Note:** Given that I have absolutely no familiarity with alcohol (I'm not of an age to drink), I'm just taking a guess that plum wine tastes sweeter than sake. Please correct me if I'm wrong.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When Rangiku decides that a temporary change of scenery might be better for her mental health, no one expects her to go to Nanao, especially while Shunsui is nowhere to be found, but then again, times have been out of whack and strange lately, so though many question Rangiku's judgment (Nanao isn't the sort of person one goes to when one wants to get drunk), none make their questions audible or known to the downcast lieutenant.

The wind, soft, warm and light, makes the wind chimes hanging from the porch ceiling outside of Shunsui's office sing softly, their rhythms and rhymes floating in through the half-open window. The lights are on, but though they are bright they seem strangely dim too, like there is a faint golden film between the bulb and the frosted glass covering. If Rangiku turns around, she'll see fireflies traversing through the garden beyond, bodies fat and slow, gold lights blinking and twinkling like little stars.

"Matsumoto-san?" Nanao is holding out a cup to her, brimming with a dark, smooth liquid. She only has one cup with her, though she's holding a bottle in her other hand. "It's some of the plum wine out of the cellars. Kyouraku-taicho won't be back tonight, so it's just us."

Rangiku nods silently, and takes the cup from Nanao as the smaller of the two women huddles down beside her, against the wall, their backs to the window. "'Kay." She takes a deep draught out of the glass. "What, is he out drinking or keeping Ukitake-taicho company?" Ukitake was on bed rest again, so it wouldn't be unlikely for Shunsui to be keeping Ukitake company.

Nanao shakes her head. "Neither. He's in a meeting with Yamamoto-soutaicho and Unohana-taicho; it's likely to run through the night."

This is the last of the words before Rangiku dives into her cup of wine. It's a novelty after working her way through half the sake casks in Seireitei, a softer, sweeter taste that doesn't burn quite as much going down her throat.

She decides that she'll just go to sleep here. If Shunsui won't be back until morning, then there should be nothing wrong with that. Nanao will most likely let her sleep on the office couch.

Rangiku hasn't slept in her own room for about a week. Mostly, it's spent in Hitsugaya's office, but this is a nice change of pace, too. Shunsui puts cut flowers in his office; the place has a nice smell to it. She sleeps in places not her own to outrun the memories left behind on her bed sheets and her mattress, but somehow, they just chase after her, wherever she goes.

And though she tries to hide it, Nanao is suffering too. The small-shouldered woman stares down at the floor, her eyes glazed as though she attempts to see through it instead of looking at it.

That confuses Rangiku a bit.

Rangiku has known Nanao for a long time; the two women are more or less the same age, give or take a couple of years, though most assume that Nanao is far younger than her fair-haired compatriot. Rangiku knows that Nanao is serious, composed, sober, and a no-nonsense individual. Many marvel that the two can be friends and even stand each other at all.

Nanao often hold people and events apart from herself, so they can't affect her so badly as all of that. Rangiku wishes she had this ability, sometimes.

Nanao is one of the few high-ranking Shinigami in the Gotei Thirteen who did not count at least one of the betrayers as a friend, or did not hold Aizen-taicho in such high regard that his betrayal came as an utter shock. Nanao is one of the few (and Rangiku can count the others on one hand) who has not treated the revelations of the recent time as a body blow.

But Nanao, Rangiku knows, lost someone, a long time ago. Maybe she's just feeling that loss a little more keenly tonight, with everything that's happened lately.

Shunsui's excellent plum wine has loosened Rangiku's tongue considerably, as she pours herself another glass, and robbed her of the knowledge that Nanao doesn't drink, as she holds the long-necked bottle out to the brunette. "Come on, Nanao." Rangiku smiles, that smile bright, wine-stained and utterly false. "You look like you could use some good cheer."

Nanao's bangs tremble as she shakes her head faintly and holds up a hand, eyes softening with snowy melancholy as she looks over her friend's slackened face, dulled by wine. "No, Matsumoto-san, I don't think so. Not everyone can find their comfort and their oblivion at the bottom of a cup of wine."

A lazy firefly flutters in through the open window, and Nanao catches it in her outstretched hand, holding it captive for a moment and watching the light flicker through her fingers before she lets it go and it flies, free for the moment, directly into the overhead light. It fall, dead, to the ground.

Rangiku frowns at the tone in Nanao's voice, and her eyes snap intently on her friend's face. "What has Shunsui done now?" Rangiku demands, staring at Nanao, knowing that she's in no position to give comfort to others. "Are you alright? Is _he_ alright?"

Again, the shake of the head, like some sort of isolated tremor. Rangiku stares around at the room, and thinks that it is far too quiet; she wishes Shunsui was there to fill the air with his booming laughter. Nanao never laughs, and Rangiku wonders if she herself will ever laugh again. "Wrong captain, Matsumoto-san." Blue-violet eyes never light on Rangiku's face.

So it's not Shunsui who has Nanao so distracted. Rangiku smirks, despite herself. This will be the despair of most of the betting pools in Seireitei, who hold the opinion that, any day now, Nanao and her roving-eye-captain will be getting together any day now. But who could it be?

"But Nanao, the only other captain you have all that much contact with is Ukitake, and he—" Rangiku stops, and stares, long and hard, at her smaller friend, thunderstruck.

Nanao turns, and with painful sadness, smiles, not the full-bodied smile of the strained and falling apart, but the small, wistful smile of the ones that know they are sad and do not care. Her blue-violet eyes narrow faintly, and they are like one-way mirrors to Rangiku's wine-dulled eyes.

Light is let in, but no light is let out.

.

Rangiku wakes up when it is still dark. The light shines bright on her eyes, and she shields her face, thinking that it can't be morning already.

And it isn't. Rangiku rams the sofa cushion over her eyes when she sees that the light is silver, not golden. It's still hours to morning, and she has a splitting headache and a mind full of memories.

Nowhere, it seems, is Rangiku capable of outrunning her memories.

She sits up, gets up, and wonders if Nanao is still uninterested in sharing a cup of wine. "Nanao?" Rangiku whispers to the darkened room, voice coming back in an unanswered chorus. "Nanao?"

Rangiku is careful to be silent as she walks through the Eighth division headquarters. She comes to the door marked with the silver plaque "_Ise Nanao_" and finds the door left slightly ajar. Rangiku presses it open.

Silver moonlight falls across in waves, milking onto an empty bed.

Rangiku flash steps to the headquarters of the Thirteenth division, and slips through the pathways, star and moonlight showing the way to her world-weary feet. The blinds on the window of the captain's office have been left open.

Ukitake lies on his pallet, prostrate and sleeping uneasily, sleep occasionally punctuated by racking coughs.

Rangiku's eyes are drawn to a shadow beside him, huddled up against the wall, the shifting of black linen barely noticeable, the gleam of glass hardly eye-catching.

Rangiku knows that she's not the only one all too aware that it's still hours to morning.


End file.
